Page 43 of How to Tempt a Duke

Something deep in Charles’s chest gave a little snag. There was Eleanor’s second condition, which he had not yet answered: his amenability toward marriage to her. He’d thought of it for a good length of time, and frankly did not see the possibility of her not being wanted.

“I’m well aware of that,” he replied.

“Good.” Lottie beamed widely at him. “Then I’ll let you have your time with Lady Eleanor once we have had a chance to celebrate her success. Assuming she brought the journal.”

Before anything further could be said Lady Eleanor entered the room, appearing unlike she ever had before. A gleam lit her emerald eyes, reflecting the grin on her face, and her cheeks were rosy with good health. She’d already removed her cloak and mask. Her bright red hair was tied back in a simple knot, and free of the ghastly blonde wig.

“Oh, Lottie,” she breathed. “Thank you for your incredible instruction. Your tutelage has been invaluable.”

Lottie gave a squeal of excitement and caught Lady Eleanor in a hug. “I’m so very delighted,” Lottie gushed. “I heard how brilliant you were. Have you had any proposals yet?”

If Lady Eleanor had been surprised by the physical affection of Lottie’s impulsive hug, she did not show it. Instead she returned the hug and laughed. It was a sweet, joyous sound that Charles found to be quite pleasant.

“It has only been one day,” Eleanor said.

Lottie released her and put a hand on her hip. “Does that matter?”

“Well, I did have many callers, and Mother has stated that the Earl of Devonington would like to take me to Vauxhall. I also received several lovely flowers.”

Lady Eleanor slid a glance at Charles and smiled, as if they had a shared secret. And perhaps they did—he knew how eager she had been to rid herself of the Earl’s company. But even with the knowledge of her disdain for Devonington, he could not stop the gnaw of irritation grinding at him.

“Have your feet quite recovered?” Lottie asked with a chuckle.

Lady Eleanor rolled her eyes playfully. “Not enough to chance another set with Devonington any time soon. I was lucky to beg off from Almack’s this evening, or I might have been in the same situation once more. But, I had something to bring tonight.”

She hefted a bag from her side. Charles stepped forward and accepted the welcome heft of it into his grasp.

“One of the journals,” Lady Eleanor said. “As promised.”

He pulled the stiff leather handles of the bag, splitting it open at the middle to draw out a battered journal with an embossed gold compass on the front. A true journal of the Adventure Club.

Relief washed over him. She had brought it.

“You remember our agreement?” Lady Eleanor said.

Her sly glance indicated that she still anticipated an answer for her second condition. Charles’s gut tensed. Surely agreeing to wed her if she had no other alternatives was no great deal. Her victorious night at the masquerade practically guaranteed that he’d never have to make good that promise.

He looked up from the journal. “I do,” he replied smoothly.

He pulled the key from his jacket pocket. It had been worth the discomfort of its sharp edges jabbing against him to ensure it remained safe.

Lady Eleanor came to his side, teasing him with her delicate scent, which had clung to his clothes the night before.

“Shall we get started?” He handed her the key.

An impish smile touched her lips. “I confess I’ve read through a little of this one. Even without the key it made for interesting reading.”

The flat metal sheet rested in her hands, held just at the empire waist of her evening gown. A mere inch below her bosom. Much as he wanted to delve into the contents of the journal, he could not stop his attention from glancing over the bounty of her creamy breasts, encased in a swath of pale green silk—the lucky cloth.

“Will you open it?” she asked.

“Yes.” He pulled back the cover to the first page of neatly written script.

“It isn’t my father’s handwriting.” Eleanor settled the key so it fit snugly within the page.

“Nor my father’s.” Charles studied the key. The letters revealed through the slits spelled out WDIFLSJSNLIDFNEWSZDIJLBEK.

Eleanor shook her head. “It makes no sense—no matter how I try to combine the letters.”